This story starts like most of the others -- in October, 2003.
We pretty much listened to and read a ton of Grady
bashing, sulked through the World Series (except when the
Yankees were taken O. U. T. OUT! That was nice, wasn’t it?),
and then had a lengthy bout of
hot stove fever.

In retrospect, we think the seeds of "The Red Seat" were sown
as early as Game 3 (Zimmer had it coming) of that year. Trying to convert
a Yankee fan and wanting a souvenir to
commemorate the great day of theater, we searched and searched,
but to no avail. There was literally nothing around the park
that wasn't a lame retread, obscenely priced or just plain
obscene. After making a mental note, this was quickly forgotten
until what we used to refer to around here as "the inevitable."
Much sadness followed, but then our first moment of enlightenment.
It had to be that god hates us.

Enlightenment #2. Any shirt that has that New York team's name on it is a shirt about them. Doesn't matter if it says that they suck. You're thinking about them, aren't you?
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